


Touches

by WanderingAlice



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't like being touched, and the team takes it upon themselves to protect him. There is, however, one exception to that rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touches

He doesn’t like to be touched. A hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing his side, the ghost of a touch along his back, and he freezes. His hands go tight, fingers splayed, shaking, until the touch goes away. If he’s surprised, well, the last time it happened he punched Tony through a wall. He was terribly apologetic about it, but it wasn’t a reaction he could control. There’s too much association in his brain between touch, and pain.

Haltingly, he explains it to Steve, who gives an abbreviated explanation to the rest of the team, never showing the horror he feels at all that Bucky has gone through. The team, perhaps unsurprisingly, understands. Without talking about it, they all make a point to avoid touching Bucky. Even Tony manages to remember, most of the time. Thor, who has seen too many good men who feel the same after terrible battles, doesn’t even need to be told. He recognizes the look in Bucky’s eyes when he sees a crowded room, and stands between him and the throngs of bodies whenever they’re out in public together. They all shield him, in one way or another. Clint takes it upon himself to make sure Bucky always has a clear route to an exit in any room they are in. Sam pretends to grumble, but calls up a therapist friend of his for Bucky to talk to, if he wants. Tony programs Friday to warn him if he gets too close to Bucky, since he knows himself well enough to realize he’d forget sometimes otherwise. Natasha perfects a death glare that she gives anyone who comes within arm’s length. There’s a special version she gives to overly pushy reporters, and Bucky still laughs over the time one peed his pants when she’d stopped him from getting too close. Wanda distracts him with scarlet lights playing around her fingers any time he gets too tense, hypnotizing movements that take his mind from the panic inside. And Steve, Steve is a constant warm presence at Bucky’s back, standing solidly beside him through it all. He watches the others with sad eyes and a grateful smile, quietly thanking them for looking out for his friend.

If touching must happen, they warn him before they do it. They talk him through helping him to put on his armor, tell him before they brush past him on the jet or in the hall. It becomes second nature to broadcast their moves around Bucky, to refrain from touching him, and to keep others from doing it too. It doesn’t truly matter to them why he doesn’t like it, all they need to know is that it upsets him, and so they don’t do it. He doesn’t initiate touches with them either, preferring to act as if there is a barrier around him, one he does not want to breach.

There is only one exception to the rule, as the team finds out to their surprise one day, when they walk into the common room to find Steve sitting on the couch. He glances back at them and smiles a greeting before turning back to the program he’s watching on the tv. Clint rounds the couch, intending to take the seat next to Steve, and stops dead. Natasha, a step behind him, walks into his back. Stretched out on the couch, sound asleep, is Bucky. His head is in Steve’s lap, and as they watch, Steve absently runs his fingers through his hair.

“Wha-” Clint says, before Natasha grabs him and pulls him back, herding the rest of the team back into the elevator. They can go elsewhere. This is not a moment they need to intrude upon.

“I thought he didn’t like to be touched,” Tony says, when the elevator doors close behind them.

“He doesn’t,” Natasha tells him.

“But-”

“Steve is different,” Clint says. Natasha nods, and tangles their fingers together.

Down in the common room, Bucky shifts and blinks up at Steve. “I thought I heard-”

Steve shakes his head. “Nat just needed to get something. You can go back to sleep.”

“’Kay,” Bucky agrees, and closes his eyes again. Steve’s hands rub soothing patterns into his scalp and one hand moves down to rest on his shoulder. With his ear pressed to Steve’s chest, Bucky can hear his heart beating, a steady sound that soon lulls him back to sleep. The hand on his shoulder is warm and heavy, a comforting weight. These hands are safe, they protect, shield, and calm. Bucky knows it in his bones. This is the only touch he can tolerate, the only one that doesn’t set his heart to racing and his mind screaming to flee. Perhaps, he thinks as he drifts off into dreams, it’s because Steve is a part of himself, just as he is a part of Steve. Two people who together form one whole.

**Author's Note:**

> I may push a little too many of my mental issues onto Bucky, but I just don't think he'd come out the end of that brainwashing without some sort of panic/anxiety disorder.


End file.
